FIC: Indiana Jones and the Impossible Pyramid, Bill Weasley/Indiana Jones, Crossover, NC-17
Title: Indiana Jones and the Impossible Pyramid
Author: rose_whispers
Pairing: Bill Weasley/Indiana Jones crossover
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 10,082
Summary: Sparks fly when Indiana Jones receives a surprising visitor and finds himself in Egypt in a pyramid that shouldn't exist, facing creatures of legend.
A/N: For the crossover_hp ficathon, and only a month and a half late. *headdesks* Sorry about that! Thanks as always to thescarletwoman and jateshi for their readthroughs and help!
"I cannot believe I agreed to this," Indy groaned as the two of them skidded to a halt. The spikes, jagged, stone things on the ceiling, descended toward them mercilessly, while shuffling footsteps and a bullish snort sounded behind them. In front, the corridor dropped away into nothingness, a void so deep into the earth that Indy couldn't even glimpse the bottom. So it was jump, probably to their deaths, be caught in the spikes, or wait for the monsters prowling after them to catch up. Indy chose to jump. Well, not quite jump. More like swing.
"Wait, I'm an utter fool," Bill gasped, fishing into his pocket.
"Come on," Indy said, grabbing Bill by the wrist.
They took off at a run, and Indy wrapped an arm around Bill's waist. He'd done this move with women before, and he didn't see why it wouldn't work with a man.
"No, really, it's all right," Bill said.
Indy felt something seriously irritated settle into his stomach. So it was all right for Bill to grab him and throw him down, but Indy couldn't touch him? "Come on, you idiot," he hissed, tugging Bill closer. "GO!"
Faster than the eye could follow, his whip was in his hand and with a practiced crack of his wrist, he sent its tip slicing through the air to wrap around one of the spikes jutting out of the ceiling before them. He turned to his compatriot, who was looking decidedly impressed by the whip. With a burst of strength and speed, they launched themselves off the ground and swung perilously through the air. Indy knew from their trajectory that they'd never make it. They would tumble to the dark depths below them, and they would probably die. Damn Bill! This was all his fault! He turned his head to tell Bill just exactly that.
Bill smirked back. "Hold on, love," he said with a look of manic glee on his scarred face. He had a stick of wood in his hand that he flicked just like Indy had flicked his whip, and then they weren't falling at all. They were squeezing somehow, like Indy was being steamrollered inside out, and then they were... somewhere else.
"Sorry about that," Bill said easily, letting Indy go.
Indy took the opportunity to faint, and after he did, he dreamed about meeting Bill for that first, fated time...
~*~
Another year, another introductory class. Welcome to university, this is how you spell archaeology. You can spell, can't you? Indy winced. The kids in his classes just seemed to get younger and dumber each September. He'd been teaching this bunch for a good month and a half, and their marks were dismal. Why did they bother showing up if they didn't want to learn? It was completely beyond him.
The blonde in the front row- Melanie?- crossed her very bare legs, smiling the most smug/innocent smile he'd ever seen. Girl knew she was attractive, all right, and oh dear God Indy could see her panties underneath that way-too-short plaid skirt. Indy nearly tripped over his own feet. Her smile tipped more toward the smug side of the scale, and she batted her lashes at him.
Five years ago, he might have thought about it, but honestly? Taking a student to bed with him had never really seemed like that good an idea. Even if his classes were always filled with girls. Even though a good percentage of those girls were easy on the eyes. There was just something creepy about it, and God knew he got in enough trouble with the university for some of the... side trips he took. No matter that he brought back some amazing relics. They wanted him in his office during office hours. Tyrants.
With a stroke of spontaneity, Indy said, "I think we'll start with a pop quiz today." The entire class groaned. The short-skirted blonde pouted. "Settle down, settle down," Indy grumped. "Grab some paper- No, Callaghan, I don't have any. Share with somebody. All right. Write down the numbers one through ten. I'm going to ask you questions you should know the answers to by now. Bonus points if you actually spell the words right- got it?"
More grumbling, underscored by the general rustling of paper as the class got ready to be academically annihilated. Indy didn't even bother trying to think of easy questions. He only made it to number four before the first kid- scruffy looking guy who almost never came to class anyway- got up and left the room, slamming the door on his way out. Three more left on question six- and come on, what was so hard about "Name two societies August Pitt Rivers was a member of"? By the tenth and final question, Indy was as peevish as the kids were. There were days he hated being "Professor Jones". He didn't really want to be here any more than they did, not when he could be out there. Somewhere out there laid treasure and adventure. Fieldwork. That was what Indy needed. It had been entirely too long since he'd gotten his hands dirty.
"All right, pass your papers to the front. I'll grade them and give them back to you next week," Indy sighed. More rustling of papers. The blonde sucked her fountain pen into her mouth, staring at him. The red-haired man in the back stretched his legs and-
Red-haired man in the back? Indy frowned. He was sure the man hadn't been there a moment ago, and he definitely wasn't one of his students. He looked more closely. The man couldn't have been that much younger than Indy himself. He was sitting in the back corner, his face mostly obscured by shadows, his red hair pulled into a ponytail.
"Dismissed," Indy muttered, and there was a stampede toward the door. The blonde girl fought her way leggily- it was too a real word, if you saw how she was walking- through the crowd. The red-haired man stayed exactly where he was.
"Melanie," Indy said gruffly.
"Anastasia," she replied, apparently not at all put off by his mistake, if the way she was pressing herself against him was anything to go by.
"Right," Indy said. "Did you hand in your paper?"
"I thought I'd show it to you in person, Professor Jones," she said sweetly, running her fingers through his hair. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "In your office?"
"My... office. Right. Actually, there's really something I need to take care of, but if you want to drop it off-"
"When do you want me?" she asked.
"When he's done with me," a voice behind her said. The voice was friendly but firm, with a British accent and a hint of humour. Anastasia and Indy looked up at the same time. Indy couldn't help but stare, and Anastasia recoiled, eyes wide. The redhead stood a foot away, no longer hidden by the shadows. His hair curled down past his shoulders, pulled into a loose ponytail, and his clear blue eyes were bright with mischief. His face, though... his face was really something. Forget the strong jaw and the freckled cheekbones. Indy had never seen anyone scarred quite like that before, jagged, raised abrasions that zigged across his forehead, nose, and chin. One cut a swath across his eyebrow and eye, though the eye itself seemed unharmed. Another continued the line of his mouth downward, pulling it into a perpetual frown. The overall effect was disconcerting, as if the stranger had been mauled by a wild animal. And yet... Indy couldn't explain it exactly, but though the scars were alarming at first, they were also intriguing. Though by the way that Melanie- no, Anastasia- was backing off, she clearly didn't share that opinion.
"I'll just... catch up with you later?" she asked hopefully.
"Right," Indy said, not really looking at her. He waited until she exited the classroom. "Do I know you?"
"Not yet," the stranger said, grinning. The scars stretched with the smile, giving it a lopsided, unique look.
But in Indy's line of work- or at least, in the work he preferred to do- strangers appearing out of the middle of nowhere never boded well. "Do you need an appointment?"
"No," the man said. "I need an artifact."
"Huh?" Smooth, Jones, he thought to himself. Real professional.
"I've heard you're the bloke to go to when you need an artifact recovered," the redhead said, leaning against the chalkboard. "In Egypt."
Indy snorted. "Egypt, huh? Look, pal, I don't know who you are or where you came from, but you got the wrong guy. I'm just a professor, okay? I don't even know your name."
"I'm being rude," the Brit said, extending his hand. "Bill Weasley. You won't have heard of me, but my work is not dissimilar to yours."
Well, he kind of sounded like a professor. "Indiana Jones," Indy said, taking the proffered hand and giving it a good, hard shake. "Seems you knew that already, though."
"Yep," Bill said cheerfully. "I've traveled further than you could possibly imagine, Professor. I do hope you'll hear me out."
Indy squinted at the joker and was about to tell him to take a hike when the door to the classroom flew open and the head of his department entered, looking crimson-faced and dyspeptic, like he always did.
"Jones," he growled, "I've just received your budget requests. Are you out of your mind?"
Indy grimaced. "Sorry, I'm in a meeting right now." He grabbed Bill by the forearm. The guy was in good shape, he noted vaguely, feeling muscles rippling beneath his fingers as he steered them both out of the classroom. "Very important, and, uh, potentially big for the university. Yeah. So- I'll find you tomorrow, Harvey, all right? All right!"
Before he could be caught, he pulled Bill down the hall and out the front door. Once they were in the sunlight, he peered at the other man. "All right, talk. What is it you want?"
"Odji's crook and flail." Bill unfurled a rolled up piece of old paper- parchment? Who used parchment anymore?- and smiled enigmatically.
Indy took one look at the hieroglyphics inscribed there and sighed. "Let me get grab my hat."
~*~
Indy found the amused expression on Bill's face irritating. "You never seen a pistol before?" he sneered, taking care to clean the barrel properly.
"I've never known anyone who needed one," Bill shrugged, stretching his long legs out in front of him. Indy rolled his eyes. Superior asshole.
"Look, Weasley, I followed you out here into the desert. I'm taking your word on a lot of things, and all because..." Why was it again? There had been a damned good reason why he'd agreed to come, but what was it?
"An old friend suggested it," Bill supplied. Something warm and calming seemed to wrap around Indy for a second or two.
"Right, that," Indy muttered. "But I want to know more, and not just what's on that parchment of yours. Old Egyptian riddles aren't enough to go on."
"Fair enough," Bill said evenly. "You see before you the Giza Necropolis of Egypt."
"Home of the Pyramid of Khufu, among others," Indy said with a nod, uncorking his canteen and eyeing the massive stone edifices in the middle distance from where they'd set up camp.
"Also the Pyramid of Khafra, Pyramid of Menkaure, and of course, the Great Sphinx."
Indy shot Bill a dirty look. "I'm an archaeologist, Weasley. I don't exactly need the Egyptology 101 lecture."
"No, of course not," Bill said, and he wasn't quite mocking enough to cause Indy to punch him out. "You see the causeways between the Sphinx and Khafra's pyramid?"
"Sure."
"That's where we're going."
Indy squinted. "Why?"
Bill smiled, nearly as secretively as the damned Sphinx itself. "That's where Odji is buried."
Now that was just stupid. "No he's not."
"Yes he is."
"No he's not! Look, Odji the Conjuror King is mythological at best. He's not buried in the middle of Giza!"
"Why not?" Bill asked. "You don't know for certain who ruled after Khafra and before Menkaura. The parchment I showed you-"
"Wasn't written by Odji or any of his supposed followers."
"How do you know that?" Bill asked infuriatingly.
"Because Odji didn't exist. Not during the fourth dynasty and not any other time!"
Bill smirked. "Then I suppose tomorrow will be a short day."
"You really think we're going to find this imaginary guy's imaginary tomb, do you?"
"I do," Bill confirmed. "And I can't use my... usual methods without endangering myself and you."
"Huh?"
Bill grinned. "Never mind. You and I are going to wrangle our way in, make it to the unfortunate fellow's sarcophagus, and wrench his fabled crook and flail from his cold, dead hands."
"Sounds easy enough, if it really does exist," Indy mused. But nothing that sounded that easy ever was. "And you seem like a capable guy. So what's the catch?"
It was Bill's turn to look perplexed. "Excuse me?"
"What do you need me for?"
The slow, predatory smile that spread itself across Bill's face shot a wave of something through Indy, some kind of awareness that he didn't think he liked very much. "I need your special expertise on this, Jones."
Indy decided to call the unnamed something "professional pride". Yeah. He watched the play of the campfire light across his companion's scars for a moment, calling that "professional curiosity". Bill seemed to know what he was doing, so why hadn't Indy ever heard of him before?
He didn't sleep for most of that night, planning their attack on the tomb and brooding over the other man, who slept soundly. He still half-didn't believe it would be there at all, but then, this wasn't the first time he would find out that something fabled, of legend and myth, was actually real. Not by a long shot.
At first light of dawn, he shook Bill awake. Bill snarled at him, sounding like a wild animal for a second before he came to himself. Indy relished the look of chagrin on Bill's face and his mumbled apology.
Getting to the pyramid was so uneventful, Indy was almost disappointed. Bill kept fidgeting with something in his pocket and murmuring under his breath in a language Indy couldn't identify. Nervous habit, Bill claimed, but Indy still thought it was weird.
And even weirder that the pyramid was exactly where Bill said it would be, between the Sphinx and the Pyramid of Khafra. Sitting there, three quarters of the size of the Great Pyramid itself, squatted the lost and legendary Pyramid of Odji, the Conjuror King, mythological pharaoh and sorcerer who was said to have ruled four thousand years ago, give or take a century or three.
"I've been here a million times and I never saw this before," Indy said.
"It blends in," Bill agreed. "You just have to know how to look. Get us in, then."
"What?"
"I told you- I can't use my usual methods," Bill said without shame. "Hopefully you can use yours."
Indy's eyes followed the clean, vast plane of the pyramid's side upward, piercing the sky 400 feet above them. "It doesn't exactly have a welcome mat laid out for us," Indy pointed out.
"I have a feeling that's never stopped you before," Bill replied.
With a grunt of agreement, Indy began to run his hands over the rough, gritty stones, each one wider than he was tall, and probably thicker too. "There might not even be a door on this side."
He heard a rustle of parchment behind him. "This is the east face," Bill said pleasantly. "It's here. The parchment suggests-"
"Forget what it suggests, what's it say?" Indy snatched the parchment away from the other man, running an index finger along the hieroglyphs. "Where two men struggle-"
"Or fuck."
"Or... excuse me?" Indy stared at Bill, speechless for once.
"I hadn't translated it as 'struggle'," Bill said consideringly, "though I suppose it's a similar enough action, depending on how you do it. All right then, fourth stone in, yes?"
"Right," Indy said, translating the passage rapidly as he read. "'Where two men struggle, pinned by Ra against the wall that faces sunrise, a door shall open four stones from the south.'"
"Good." Bill counted one, two, three, four, and then wrapped his strong fingers around Indy's hips and tugged him in front of the proper rock.
"What do you think you're doing?" Indy squawked, twisting to get out of Bill's iron grip, the parchment clutched in his fist.
Bill didn't say a word as he caught Indy by the wrists and held him tight against the pyramid.
"Are you insane?" Indy demanded. He could feel his fury exploding- what the hell was Bill doing, grappling with him like this? The redhead was deceptively strong, and no matter how Indy bucked against him, Bill had the advantage, pinning Indy's hands by his head and using his body to press Indy's against the hot, solid stone.
"Weasley," Indy growled, and a fierce heat alighted across the other man's marred features. He growled in kind, a guttural, wordless sound from deep in his chest, and Indy gasped as he felt one lean hard leg slide between his own, pressing- oh! Oh god, he was aroused, throbbing with it. It surprised him into momentary stillness, and Bill took further advantage, swooping forward to kiss, no, bite, Indy's neck. Shocked pleasure surged through him, combining with his horror, and he fought back against the other man, struggling to free his hands. His knuckles scraped painfully against the face of the pyramid, and with an ancient, grating wheeze, the stone began to shift. Bill released him immediately, looking flushed and pleased with himself. Indy took a swing at him. His fist connected with a satisfying thud against Bill's cheek, sending him reeling. This might not have been the first time, exactly, that Indy had had this kind of reaction to another guy, but it was definitely the first time it had gotten that far.
"I don't know what you're trying to pull-" Indy began, but Bill was scrambling to his feet, pointing at the pyramid. Indy wheeled around and stared. The rocks where Bill had pinned him- fight/fuck, Indy recalled dimly- had shifted aside, revealing a gaping entrance way like a gash in the pyramid's side. The air wafting out smelled stale and moldy, and Indy took a second to marvel that they were probably the first two people in thousands of years to breathe it. They'd opened the pyramid. Damned Bill would be impossibly smug after this.
"Good work, Dr. Jones," Bill said with a mischievous grin, and he strode into the pyramid. Indy wanted to take another swing at him.
~*~
Indy had been in enough of these situations to know that "duck" meant "duck" and he didn't stop to ask questions, throwing himself to the ground. He coughed on a lungful of dust, and overhead something zinged and something else shattered, the hard sound of stone forced spectacularly into a thousand shards, and then Bill tapped him on the shoulder. Indy ignored the proffered hand, rolling to his feet and checking his surroundings in the semi-darkness.
"Pressure-rigged floor?" he asked, and Bill nodded.
"Our weight must have tripped some kind of alarm." The redhead crouched to examine what was left of the stone missiles no doubt aimed at their heads. "Look at this." He pointed the small, futuristic flashlight he'd brought with him at the stone.
Indy knelt as well, examining the piece in Bill's callused hands. His brow furrowed at the squiggles, closer to English than Egyptian, but still undoubtedly foreign. "What the hell is ancient Greek doing on this thing?"
"A Greek helped design the security," Bill said, sounding triumphant. "I wasn't sure before, but this is Daedalus' sigil." He pointed to several etchings of a convoluted spiral.
Indy knew he'd heard a lot of hooey in the last couple of days, but this? "Get out of here," he said. "You'd better not be talking about the person I think you're talking about."
"Daedalus, the great Greek artificer," Bill said matter-of-factly.
"He's mythological too!"
"No he's a wiz- oh, wait." Bill frowned. "He would be mythological to you, wouldn't he? Right, then. Carry on."
They came to a fork in the passage, cutting off Indy's biting response. Of course. There was never such thing as a straight path to Indy's goal. "Left or right?" Bill asked.
"Hold your light up," Indy said, stepping forward. More Greek writing appeared on the wall before them.
"Right lay sphinxes," he translated.
"Left lay asps," Bill picked up.
Indy's stomach did a graceful triple pirouette and collapsed into his spleen. "Asps?"
"S'what it says-"
"I know what it says, but asps?" Indy didn't bother to hide the head-to-toe shudder of revulsion that shook him. "I hate snakes."
"They might be dead by now," Bill offered helpfully.
"They never are." Indy glared to the left, imagining a pit of roiling, angry snakes. Big ones, with inch-long venom-dripping fangs and evil, unblinking eyes, just waiting to strike and kill him. Or wrap around his neck and strangle him and bite his eyes out and-
"Indiana?"
Indy blinked, the visions fading but the ugly fear in his stomach staying right where it was. "Right. We go right."
Bill frowned. "That makes no sense. Look, it says 'Right lay sphinxes, left lay asps. Press onward for the right path.'"
"Yeah, the right path. Right. Sphinxes, not snakes."
"Sphinxes are far nastier buggers than most snakes I've seen, believe me," Bill grimaced. "Besides, it isn't 'right' like opposite of left. It's 'right' as in 'correct'."
"But-"
"And anyway, the crook and flail is designed to look serpentine. Snakes make more sense!"
"I hate snakes!"
"That's hardly the point! Look-"
"Wait." Indy was looking. "These things are never straightforward. So we go one way or the other, we run into more traps. There's got to be something more here. See, the script of the last line is different."
Bill stepped forward, frowning in concentration. He ran his fingers along the chiseled Greek words. "Shallower engravings," he confirmed. "I don't sense anything, but then, I wouldn't here..."
"Sense anything? No wonder you need me," Indy grumbled. He was a little disconcerted by Bill's sudden smirk, but he ignored it. "This is a puzzle, Weasley. Use your brain, not your senses. If you have a brain."
"You sound just like a teacher I know," Bill said, rolling his eyes, but he continued to stroke the wall. "Maybe a play on words?"
A sinister rattling sound insinuated itself through the darkness to their left, echoing down the corridor. Sweat broke out across Indy's brow. Think, think, answers always come under pressure, he chided himself.
"Something's coming," Bill hissed, facing the right. The click, click, click of clawed feet reverberated toward them.
"Press onward, onward..." Indy's eyes widened, and he pushed the heel of his hand hard against the word "onward", shoving all of his strength against it. With a jarring shudder, an entire section of the wall rotated like a revolving door, turning itself all the way around on an ancient axis. Indy grabbed Bill by the wrist and yanked him through as the wall spun. They squeaked through, Indy scraping the knuckles of his other hand in the process. The wall slammed shut behind them, keeping out whatever it was that had been coming after them. They collapsed against the cool, dark wall, and silence enveloped them.
"Good work, Indy!" Bill enthused, slapping him on the shoulder.
"No asps," Indy said simply, squinting through the total darkness. How Bill had managed to figure out where Indy was through the gloom, Indy didn't know. He couldn't tell where Bill was. "Put that flashlight of yours on again."
Bill did, and his scarred face came into sharp relief.
"What happened to you?" Indy blurted. He'd been torn between curiosity and respecting the guy's privacy ever since they'd met.
Bill flushed a little in the cold light but didn't look away. "I got in a scrap with a big bloke who likes to use his teeth as weapons."
"TEETH?" Human teeth did that?"
"In a manner of speaking," Bill said with a shrug. "Does it bother you, the way I look?"
It was Indy's turn to flush, for reasons he didn't entirely understand. "Naw. Doesn't matter to me- it's not like I don't have my share of scars. From more than my share of fights."
Bill smiled at him, a genuine smile brighter than his futuristic flashlight, and it made Indy feel like he had an itch he couldn't reach. Neither spoke for a moment, though Bill looked like he wanted to say something, and Indy barked, "Come on, let's go."
The redhead nodded and turned away. "You're the first person since my wife died who really doesn't care about the scars. Looks like it's this way." And he set off along the downward-sloping tunnel.
~*~
Getting to the King's Burial Chamber was pathetically easy. Indy scowled. "I don't like this."
Bill grunted his agreement, and together they stepped into the inner chamber, the final resting place of Odji and the artifact they were after, the fabled crook and flail. "If it's too easy to get in..."
"Then it's impossible to get out," Indy finished. The stone behind them slid ominously into place, as if it agreed with them.
Bill shone the flashlight around the room with a frown. "Seven sarcophagi."
Six large, plain stone boxes sat arrayed in a circle around a seventh, which was heavily ornamented and raised upon a dais. The pattern was clearly an image of the sun and its rays.
"This doesn't say a word about six other mummies," Bill said, checking his parchment again. "It's 'half twelve to guide and guard', but this isn't how I pictured it."
"They're the guards, I guess," Indy reasoned.
"Something isn't right here."
Indy was inclined to agree, but they were surrounded by more tons of pyramid than he cared to count, so it didn't seem prudent to do anything but keep going. And Indy, of course, was the paragon of prudence.
They picked their way between the great stone slab boxes to the dais in the centre. The sarcophagus reposing there was fashioned to look like a man laying on his back. Once, it must have gleamed brightly, and Indy knew he was looking at solid gold, painted elaborately in a rainbow of colours that were all but faded now. Still, the heavily kohled eyes gave him the creeps, like they were watching every move he made. The carved hands were crossed over the chest, clutching...
"The crook and flail," Bill crowed. And Indy nodded. He was looking at the painted representation of the artifact they were after. He didn't like it one little bit. It was too serpentine.
"What is it that you think this thing will do?" he asked.
Bill shook his head. "I'm not entirely clear on that myself. I'm just the delivery boy."
"I've never seen seals like this- there's no way you and I can lift this ourselves," Indy groused, kneeling next to the dais for a better look. The lid of the sarcophagus seemed fused to the box itself, and locked into place with at least a dozen heavy, intricate seals.
Pure mischief sparkled in Bill's eyes. "Under different circumstances I could. However, I don't think we have to lift it at all."
"Oh really, genius? Just how are we going to get your stupid crook and flail out?" Bill was half-amusing and more than half-aggravating, and Indy didn't need to be a mathematician to know that that didn't add up.
Bill's smirk widened and he fished a large square of red parchment, folded and sealed with a dollop of golden wax, out of his pocket.
"What is it with you and parchment?"
Bill didn't bother answering, saying instead, "A message from my friend Harry."
"Who's Harry?"
"The person we're stealing this artifact for."
"Remind me to wring his neck."
"He lives rather far from here," Bill said dryly, "and he already has a queue of people ahead of you who would love to do the same thing. I'll let him know you wanted to, though. Now then." He flicked open the seal with his thumb and unfolded the crimson parchment.
Indy couldn't see what was written, but after a moment he didn't have to. The parchment was hissing. A stream of snakelike noises poured forth, loud and echoing through the burial chamber. Indy's entire body tensed- it sounded like the noise a sixty foot cobra would make. Bill laid a hand on his forearm, eyes filled with sympathy, and Indy jerked away from him.
"Just what the hell-"
Something quivered, and then there was the bone-screaming grate of stone tearing away from stone along with the liquid squelch-hiss of gold melting. Staring open-mouthed at the sarcophagus was the only thing Indy could do. Its entire ornate surface was roiling and bubbling, solid stone turned to molten, bejeweled lava by that impossible hissing parchment. And rising up, two thirds of the way to the top, right where the representation of the artifact had been painted...
"Odji's crook and flail," Bill said with triumphant awe.
The relic looked mobile in the torchlight, glistening in its bed of watery gold. The crook was carved to look like a curved cobra, and the whips of the flail were fashioned after six tiny, writhing asps. Wait, writhing?
"That thing is alive," Indy growled, pleased beyond measure that his voice didn't crack.
"It's responding to Harry's Howler," Bill breathed, looking relieved.
"Harry's what?"
"Never mind. You have to pick it up."
The venom in Indy's glare could have matched any snakebite. "I really think I don't."
"Look, I can't," Bill implored. "The parchment says 'The son named for the father, whose blood flows not with the power alone may touch the source of Odji's authority'. The son named for the father- that's you, Junior, not me. My dad's name is Arthur."
"That's why you brought me along?" Indy bellowed. "I'm named after my father?"
"It won't let me touch it because of my bloodline," Bill said testily. "C'mon, Jones, I thought you liked adventure!"
"I do!"
"I thought you were an archaeologist!"
"I am!"
"I thought you weren't a bloody chicken!"
"I- hey now." Indy's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Only a chicken wouldn't pick it up," Bill reasoned.
"Why the hell don't you do it then?"
"I told you, I can't. I've seen what happens to people's hands when they take things they aren't supposed to take. I like my hand whole and unblackened, thanks." Whatever memory Bill was reliving, it was making him wince. Indy huffed.
"What makes you so sure the same grim fate doesn't await me? For one thing, that looks really hot." The liquid gold was beginning to steam.
Bill looked pained again, but in a different way, like he was riddled with indecision. Indy wondered if a good sucker punch wouldn't help him make up his mind faster. "I can't tell you why I know it won't hurt you. It's just, a very old friend gave me a letter and... You have to trust me on this. It's why I brought you specifically when I could have chosen any number of archaeologists."
Indy's resolved crumbled a bit at the flattery, and he eyed the sarcophagus with skepticism, twitching a little at the waving snake heads of the flail.
"Don't make me call you a chicken again," Bill warned.
With an absolute glare, Indy stepped forward and plunged his hand into the liquid gold. It felt utterly, eerily smooth, and in spite of its evident heat, it was cool to the touch, enveloping his hand as if he was groping about in a clear, still mountain spring. He reached for the crook and flail, and with a start the whole thing shivered, unwrapped its parts from each other, and swam toward him.
With a very dignified, "YEAAAGH!" Indy jerked backward.
The sarcophagus wouldn't let him go, and he could only watch with heart attack-inducing terror as the stone snakes slithered over his fingers and up his hand, wrapping themselves in coils around his forearm. With an almighty yank, Indy pulled himself free, crashing against Bill and sending them both into one of the other sarcophagi.
Unseen torches flared to life the second the crook and flail left the sarcophagus, washing out the room in flickering, condemning light. The stone beneath them began to move with a groan, and the lids of the other sarcophagi started to lift.
"Oh. Oh fucking fuck!" Bill gasped, and the tone of voice chilled Indy's blood.
"What-"
"Run!" Bill sprang to his feet and sprinted across the chamber. The door was sealed, but he hurled himself against it. It didn't budge.
"Bill!"
"Grab a torch," Bill snapped, lifting one off the wall and whirling around. Indy repeated the gesture without question. And that's when he saw them.
"Oh my god."
"Inferi," Bill whispered, brandishing his torch at them. "I'm an idiot- to guard and guide? He put fucking inferi in his burial chamber!"
Indy was inclined to agree with the idiot part, but he was too transfixed by the things hoisting themselves out of their tombs. Without thinking, he reached for his pistol and fired. He hit the first one standing smack in the middle of its chest. Its unseeing eyes didn't so much as blink in reaction. It lifted itself out of the sarcophagus and began shuffling toward them. Another followed suit.
"That won't work," Bill hissed. "They fear fire." He swept a wide arc with his torch around them both. Indy holstered his pistol and did the same. Three more were standing now, just out of reach of the torches.
"How the hell are we going to get out of this?"
"Not a clue."
"Not the answer I was hoping for."
"My apologies, Professor," Bill snapped.
"They're all looking at my hand." He thought he deserved the mild panic that was surfacing in his voice. The crook and flail gleamed innocuously in the torchlight.
"We're sealed in. There has to be some way to get out again." Bill scrabbled at the place the door had been. "Maybe it wants blood again- blood opened the first one, right?" Without waiting for a response, he scraped his own knuckles against the abrasive stone, blood smearing against it. The floor immediately dropped away beneath him.
Before Indy knew what was happening, he was tumbling downward. He could hear Bill cursing beside him.
"Fucking trap door!"
Indy was too intent on being swallowed whole by the earth to answer. They hit the ground at least a hundred feet beneath the burial chamber. The impact slammed through Indy's bones.
"Ow!" he said at last. He stared up at the tiny square of light far above them. Several pinprick-sized faces stared back, and then one hurled itself through the hole.
Bill grabbed Indy's unadorned wrist and dragged him to this feet. "Come on, it's jumping!"
They took off at a run down the corridor and almost immediately ran into a fork in the path. On instinct, Indy pelted off to the left, Bill following hot on his heels. Only a few paces more and a second corridor appeared, perpendicular to the one they were in.
"I've never seen anything like this," Indy panted, trying to figure out which way to go. "What's a labyrinth doing under an Egyptian pyramid?" He continued on straight, and Bill followed.
"It's a pyramid built by an ancient Greek-" Bill shut his mouth abruptly, and again Indy had the feeling he wasn't saying as much as he knew. Indy would question him thoroughly- with his fists- if they ever got out of this alive. Bill took a turn to the left and it was Indy's turn to follow.
"I don't suppose you've noticed we're on a descending path?" he said, as they jogged along.
"It didn't escape my attention, no," Bill said.
At the next intersection, something snorted. They froze. "Ever get the feeling you're being watched?" Indy quipped.
Bill's entire body snapped rigid and Indy stared in shock as he took three long, deep inhalations, as if scenting the air. Indy couldn't help but stare- somehow in that moment, Bill looked like a wolf.
"We aren't alone," Bill said, voice low with fear. And if whatever it was could scare Bill that badly, Indy didn't look forward to meeting it. He could hear the shuffling gate of those inferi things behind them, but to the right... his skin prickled and he cleared his throat uneasily.
"Bill?"
"I assume you know your mythology, Professor? What lived in the Cretan labyrinth that Daedalus built?"
Something massive stepped slowly into the shadowed outer circle of their flickering torchlight. Indy had never in his life seen anything like it. A monster of a man, naked, hairy, and barrel-chested, with arms the circumference of Indy's thighs, stood before them. But 'man' wasn't the right word at all, not when the beast's head was huge and brown-furred, with wickedly pointed horns.
"A minotaur," Indy gasped.
"Exactly," Bill replied. "I knew I could smell beef."
Indy couldn't even comment on the ridiculousness of all this. The minotaur lunged toward them and in unison they tore off down the only empty corridor in front of them, inferi and minotaur right behind them. Neither bothered verbalizing directions. Whichever fork they came to, they darted in the same direction, running like hell.
Another groaning wheeze, and the ceiling began to contort itself into jagged stone spikes like the ones that had flown at their heads earlier in the day. And it started descending, the entire ceiling falling downward as if in slow motion.
"Oh fuck," Bill groaned as they pelted up the corridor. Indy echoed the sentiment internally when he saw what lay ahead of them.
"I cannot believe I agreed to this," Indy groaned as the two of them skidded to a halt. The spikes, jagged, stone things on the ceiling, descended toward them mercilessly, while shuffling footsteps and a bullish snort sounded behind them. In front, the corridor dropped away into nothingness, a void so deep into the earth that Indy couldn't even glimpse the bottom. So it was jump, probably to their deaths, be caught in the spikes, or wait for the monsters prowling after them to catch up. Indy chose to jump. Well, not quite jump. More like swing...
~*~
Wherever he was, he was warm. The cloying cold and staleness of the pyramid was gone, replaced by soft sunlight and rough but gentle hands on his forehead. He shifted closer to that second warmth. It felt good- strong fingers combing through his hair and touching his face. But something here wasn't right, and his brow furrowed beneath the fingertips. A man chuckled somewhere above him. Man. Weasley. Egypt. Certain Doom- right.
Indy's eyes snapped open and he was on his feet in a heartbeat, the entire desert, bathed in late afternoon sunshine, corkscrewing dizzily around him.
"Steady now," Bill said, springing up as well and catching Indy by the shoulders. "You landed pretty hard."
"Landed. LANDED?" Indy shouted. "What the hell happened?"
Bill squeezed his shoulders. "You should lie down."
"I will not!" Indy snarled, but at another perilous rotation of the sky around his head, he acquiesced with as much dignity as he could muster. "Fine, I'll sit."
He sank into the sand, realizing for the first time where they were- back at the camp they'd set up the night before, cooking fire long since dead, off-white tent blending into the desert around them. How in hell had Bill pulled this off? Indy gave his mind a moment to sort through everything and prioritize it. "Talk," he said at last. "You drag me off to Egypt with the promise of fabulous treasure. That I can deal with. But how the goddamn hell did we get here? Last thing I remember, we were facing cold oblivion in the bottom of Odji's pyramid."
"Indeed we were," Bill said with that same infuriating grin.
"So what, are we dead?" Indy sneered.
"Of course not."
"How'd we get here?" They should have splatted against the ground and been done with it all.
"I brought us here," Bill said. "I didn't want to have to, but I wasn't crazy about the alternative."
"No, because you pulled out some artifact of your own, didn't you?" Indy demanded. "What was that thing? Some new British spy gadget, or-"
"It was a wand," Bill said, reaching into his pocket and fishing the stick of wood out.
"Huh?"
"You heard me," Bill said. "I didn't want to have to show you this, but I figure we were in dire enough need. Look." He flicked the thing like he'd done in the pyramid, and blue sparks shot out of it. Another flick, and a snake appeared out of thin stinking air.
Indy yelped in spite of himself and scooted backward. "You know I hate snakes," he said through clenched teeth, trying to suppress a violent shiver just from looking at the thing, coiling and uncoiling itself on the gritty ground. Bill shrugged, flicked the stick again, and the snake disappeared.
"How are you doing that?"
"Magic," Bill said without pretension. "I'm a wizard."
"Right. And I'm Santa Claus."
Bill looked at him patiently and before Indy knew what was happening, he was hanging upside down from his ankle in the middle of the sky. Oh god, oh god, oh god. "You're a wizard?" he managed, in spite of the blood rushing to his head and how much of a fool he knew he must sound like.
"Yep. Want me to put you down?"
"If you don't mind." Indy landed in a heap on the floor. "I don't get it."
"Some people are born magical," Bill said, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "I'm one of them- my whole family, actually. We keep hidden from Muggles- that would be you. Non-magic folk."
"'The son named for the father, whose blood flows not with the power'," Indy quoted, feeling faint.
"Exactly," Bill said, sounding pleased. Stupid bastard. "It's why I couldn't pick up the crook and flail and you could- it was guarded by charms against wizards and witches."
"Is that why you talk funny?" Indy asked.
"I'm British," Bill reminded him gently.
Indy rolled his eyes. "Your turns of phrase are weird sometimes."
"Oh, that." Bill laughed. "No, that's because I'm from the future."
"WHAT?"
"Maybe I'd better start at the beginning."
And Bill did. He told Indy all about the Wizarding world, and the big war they were going to fight at the end of the twentieth century. A war that, judging by the way Bill talked about it, he was still in the middle of fighting. He talked about his wife, Fleur, and how he still visited her every Monday in the London cemetery where she was buried. He told Indy about a boy named Harry, the hissing parchment maker, and a man named Dumbledore, and a guy called Voldemort as evil as the Nazi bastards Indy himself had faced. He told him about a place called The Burrow and another called Gringotts', about his work as a cursebreaker and treasure-hunter, about time turners and basilisks and Apparating- which they'd just done, apparently- and finally about the nature of the crook and flail. Indy probably wouldn't have believed a word he said had they not just "Apparated" already and had Bill not punctuated every other sentence with a bad Latin phrase followed by a burst of energy from his wand. He made their canteens float and he "transfigured" Indy's hat into a hare and back again, and his whip into a snake- what was up with him and snakes? Jesus! It made believing just a bit easier.
"Why did you need this thing so badly?" Indy held up his hand, the crook and flail still wrapped in coils around his wrist.
"It can theoretically be used to harness enormous magical energy. My side needs it desperately, and I just... I knew that you were the man for the job. I couldn't do it alone, and I was told by a very reliable source that you could help."
"Why couldn't you just get it in your own time? Or why not go all the way back to ancient Egypt and steal it from Odji before he died?"
"Two reasons. First, meddling in time is a huge offense," Bill explained. He crawled into the tent and reemerged with a bottle full of amber liquid. Indy silently thanked whatever deity had prompted that. "I'd never get away with it. And I can't do it in my time because in my time, this place no longer exists."
"What?" Indy gaped. "What took down a pyramid?"
"A dark wizard called Grindelwald," Bill said. "He knew the crook and flail was here too and he tried to get at it. When he couldn't he destroyed the pyramid. Or rather, he will destroy it, about a year from now."
"Jesus."
"Just as well," Bill shrugged. "This thing is powerful."
"And reason number two?" Indy swiped against his sweating brow.
"The pyramid is heavily guarded against all magical folk. Odji knew witches and wizards would come after the crook and flail, so he made it impossible to use magic to get to it. I couldn't just waltz in and steal it- I needed your help." Bill grimaced. "I should have figured it out earlier, though- as soon as the crook and flail was retrieved, the torches and the inferi came to life- and they could only have done through magic. The blanket was lifted so they could attack us, which also meant that I could use magic to Apparate us away from danger."
Indy was absolutely silent for a minute or two as he tried to process everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. Finally he said, "You- you drag me out to Egypt, possibly at the risk of my job."
"Yes."
"To goddamned Giza to look for a pyramid that doesn't exist, built by a Greek who should never have been in this country even if he wasn't mythological, to find treasure that is legendary at best, pure imagination at worst."
"By Godric, he's got it."
"You're a wizard who used a magic hourglass to move through time-"
"To find you."
"To find me." Indy ignored the pleasant burn that the flattery caused in him once again, concentrating on his anger instead. It was much more satisfying. "And you used me to get that treasure, and now what, you're going to hightail it back to your time, leaving me with nothing but an unbelievable story to tell?"
"Oh, you can't tell anyone," Bill said, eyes widening.
Indy's jaw clenched and he threw a hard left hook at Bill's scarred face. It glanced off the redhead's cheek, sending him sprawling backward. Indy scrambled toward him, ready to pound the secretive bastard right through the sand, but Bill was ready, smashing his right fist into Indy's jaw and then his left into Indy's gut. Indy doubled over, wheezing, and Bill tensed, watching. A low growl rumbled from the redhead's throat, and suddenly, belatedly, Indy noticed that he was in the same state of arousal he'd been in when they'd first unlocked the pyramid. With a desperate grunt, he threw himself at Bill, fists flying. Bill hit back, and they fell, rolling against each other through the sand. Damn it, Indy wasn't the kind of man who liked other men! That one kiss with Pierre in Paris all those years ago had been a fluke, nothing more, and Bill Weasley would not win this easily.
A few more well placed punches, and Indy's left eye was purpling, Bill's lip bleeding, the two of them struggling for dominance. Indy had no idea where the man was getting his strength. It was supernatural- were all wizards this strong? With a savage sound ripping from his throat, Bill pinned Indy's twisting hips to the desert floor with his own, Indy's wrists caught in Bill's hands, just above the crook and flail.
"Damn you, Bill!" Indy hissed, bucking against the redhead. He couldn't possibly miss Indy's arousal. It was only getting worse this close together. "Let me up!"
Instead of answering, Bill growled again, the most animal sound Indy had ever heard, and the redhead ground his hips against Indy's, thrusting one lean thigh between Indy's legs. God, was that- it was. Bill was just as turned on by this as Indy was, only at least Bill seemed to know what he was doing. Indy stopped fighting for a moment, trying to gather himself, and Bill took the opportunity to strike, sinking his teeth into the exposed skin of Indy's stubble-covered throat, not quite hard enough to break skin but damned close. Another growl, and Indy went completely still, limp beneath Bill's stronger body. They stayed frozen that way for a heartbeat, and then Bill gasped and disengaged his mouth, his forehead dropping to rest against Indy's shoulder.
"Bill?"
"God, I'm sorry." Bill looked up again, stricken. "I needed to dominate... needed to... I'm sorry, this was unforgivable of me."
Indy leaned upward to get right in Bill's face and tell him that he was damned well right, but then- oh, that was close wasn't it? Really close, and the way Bill shifted uncomfortably, right against Indy's groin...
He wasn't sure if he closed the distance or Bill did, but then it didn't matter because Bill's lips, still bleeding a little from Indy's fist, were on his, moving against his, and this was nothing like kissing a woman. Bill's lips weren't as full but they were surrounded by stubble as gritty as the sand around them, and stronger. God, even when he kissed, Bill was strong, fighting again for dominance. He sucked Indy's lip into his mouth, tongue flicking over it, and Indy groaned involuntarily, hips undulating against Bill's.
He broke away, panting. This was so much more than a few stolen, embarrassed kisses with a fellow student so many years ago. "I've never..."
Bill ran his tongue slowly across Indy's mouth, silencing him. "I have."
"You had a wife."
"And I come from a time when you can have a wife and have experience with other men also, and it's not frowned upon, at least in my community. But I haven't been with anyone- haven't wanted to be with anyone- since she died."
Indy's emotions were in turmoil. He didn't want to think about this. He didn't want to rationalize or wonder just when exactly he'd left his mind behind him. It didn't seem to matter nearly as much as the pulsing need deep inside him, and with a snarl, he bucked his hips upward, overbalancing Bill, and sending him rolling. Indy rolled with him, and they struggled in the sand once more, only this time fists didn't fly. Lips clashed and teeth nipped, mouths finding bare skin and sucking hard enough to bruise. With a final surge of energy, Indy pinned Bill beneath him.
Bill's hands slid down his back and under his shirt, untucking it and slipping underneath to touch Indy's heated skin. Both men sucked in a breath. Indy felt clumsy and big-handed, unsure what to do and not wanting to pause and think about this long enough to figure it out. Thinking might mean stopping himself, and the slow, subconscious rhythm of Bill's body against his own, Bill's fingertips tracing his spine, was too much to give up, especially in favour of something as trivial as thinking straight.
"Divestimento," Bill said, and suddenly Indy's body was being caressed by the warm Egyptian breeze as well as Bill's hands. He looked down and then up again, staring at Bill.
"Magic," Bill said with a grin as he raked his gaze across Indy's nude body. "Autodivestimento."
Bill's clothes joined Indy's, wherever the hell they'd gone, and for the first time in Indy's life, he found himself entwined with another man, completely naked. Maybe if it was anyone else, Indy would have shot him by now. But Bill's skin was glowing in the sunset, his eyes blazing with the same passion he'd had when he'd talked about going after the treasure or being magical. And then Bill arched upward and kissed him again, and all other thought was driven from his head. Bill's lips opened and his tongue flicked out to coax Indy into the kiss, a slow burn that built as Indy's tongue followed Bill's back inward, tasting Bill's mouth. Maybe it wasn't that different from kissing a woman after all, and Indy had plenty of practice at that. Bill definitely responded the same when Indy's tongue drew against his and then flicked upward to tease his palate.
Bill's hand snaked downward between their bodies, stroking Indy's chest and stomach, and then lower and- fuck, that was it right there. When had anyone known just how to take Indy's cock in hand like that and twist in just the right way?
"Bill," he groaned, thrusting into Bill's hand, and Bill grinned. He widened his grip and something hard and smooth nestled against Indy's cock. He had to look between them, confused, before he realised what it was. Bill was holding both of their cocks in his large, experienced hand, stroking them both slowly. "Oh," Indy managed, and then he dove forward once more, catching Bill's mouth with his own. It felt so good, Bill's hard, soft, mobile lips beneath his, matched by Bill's hand on them both. Indy was going to go crazy with it all. He was going to lose control.
Bill muttered something more under his breath, closing his eyes and breathing out. "All right," he said.
"What?"
Bill spread his legs beneath Indy, welcoming Indy's body to rest between them. Indy's eyes widened. He had never done this before. He had almost no idea what he was doing, but he knew enough that he stopped.
"I don't- you can't be ready to-"
"Magic," Bill whispered again, guiding Indy toward him. The head of Indy's cock rested between Bill's thighs, Bill's feet flat on the desert floor, pushing his hips upward for a better angle. "Come on, Jones, I don't have to call you a chicken again, do I?"
Indy shot him a dirty look, but he couldn't back down from the challenge in Bill's eyes. With one hard, determined thrust, he pushed inside. God, Bill was right, his body welcoming the intrusion with ease, tight and smooth and contracting around Indy's cock. Indy had never felt anything like it before, and he had to stop, a sheen of sweat breaking across his brow, before he climaxed on the spot.
"All right?"
"Yeah," Indy grunted. "You?"
"Never better." Bill wiggled a little against Indy, and they both moaned. "Just right there. Right there."
Indy began to drive in and out, not bothering with the slow titillation he used with his female partners. He needed to get more of this, and he thrust unrepentantly into Bill's body. Bill groaned and growled, moving with Indy. He cried out every few thrusts, and though Indy wasn't sure what it was he was doing to elicit such a response, he was feeling pretty damned good himself so he didn't question it. Bill's hand found its way between them again, wrapping around himself to fist along with Indy's thrusts. Indy could only watch, fascinated. He was close, so close, and when Bill's guttural groan of release tore through the still desert air, the last vestiges of Indy's control disappeared. He took Bill's mouth savagely, plunging his tongue inside as he thrust once more, deep and hard into Bill's body, his own release overtaking him. He gasped into Bill's mouth, not quite a word, his hips flush against Bill's until his strength gave out on him, and he collapsed.
He lost track of time, but when he came back to himself for the second time that day, Bill's arms were around him, their bodies still warm and sweaty. As Indy pulled away to flop down onto his back, the crook and flail began to move again, uncurling and slithering off Indy's arm, to reform as a cold, inanimate artifact between them.
Bill chuckled. "Daedalus and Odji had a sense of humour."
Indy didn't bother trying to clear the post-coital bliss out of his mind. "I guess it's one way to get treasure."
"Booty," Bill said with what was actually a giggle.
"Huh?"
"Never mind."
Indy shook his head. "This has been an adventure, Weasley, I'll give you that."
"Thanks," Bill said, but Indy wasn't entirely sure what he was being thanked for.
~*~
Bill Weasley didn't think it strange that his wife was buried in what was ostensibly a Muggle cemetery. All of the fallen were buried here, hidden in plain sight from Muggle eyes. Bill visited his Fleur every Monday after work, for an hour or so depending on his day. He missed her so much, and he feared that the way the tide of war was turning, many others that he loved would join her here before they saw the end.
Conjuring an umbrella as he passed by a patch of shadows, he stepped through the entrance gate and back into the real world outside the cemetery. He was so lost in thought about the war and Fleur that he nearly bowled over an elderly Muggle in a fedora.
"Excuse me," Bill said absently, trying to sidestep the old bugger, but he was stopped by a gnarled hand on his shoulder.
"Mr. Weasley."
Bill looked the old man over. He didn't seem familiar, but Bill wanted to be polite. "Yes? May I help you?"
"Does the name Indiana Jones mean anything to you?" The man was American, and he didn't look hopeful enough to be expecting a positive response from Bill.
"No, I'm afraid."
"Good," the stranger said. "I wanted to get to you while I was visiting England- I knew I'd find you here. I was given this in Egypt in 1943, after quite the adventure. I knew I had to hold onto it through the decades until I could give it back to you." He fished into the inner pockets of his overcoat and came up with a scroll of parchment and a rectangular Muggle-style envelope with Bill's name on the front. He handed these to Bill, who unfurled the scroll. It resonated with an old, powerful preservation charm, and the hieroglyphics... Bill stared dumbly. It was a message, almost a written map on how to find and access the lost pyramid of Odji the Conjuror King. When he looked up, the old man was gone.
Bill tore open the letter and began to read.
Dear Bill,
I know you, though I know you don't recognize me. My name is Indiana Jones, an archaeologist best known for his fieldwork during World War II. I met you in 1943, in my classroom at the University of Memphis. You brought me that parchment, and together we recovered the legendary crook and flail of Odji. You said you knew I was the man to help you find it. You wouldn't tell me why at the time.
Find a time turner, Bill. Decode this parchment and find me. I don't think I'm supposed to tell you anything more than that. You said once that you're not supposed to meddle with time.
I don't know if this is enough to change the course of your war. I hope it is. I kind of like you, kid, so stay out of trouble.
Indy
Bill's hands were shaking. The lost pyramid of Odji and his fabled crook and flail. If he did indeed go back in time, if he could use this parchment to get into the pyramid before it was destroyed... Could he really do it? Could he help Harry and change the course of the war? He squared his shoulders. He had to do some research, of course. He had to talk to Harry and McGonagall. But if this worked out...
Without another thought, Bill Disapparated to number 12, Grimmauld Place. He had an adventure to plan.
Fin
Author: rose_whispers
Pairing: Bill Weasley/Indiana Jones crossover
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 10,082
Summary: Sparks fly when Indiana Jones receives a surprising visitor and finds himself in Egypt in a pyramid that shouldn't exist, facing creatures of legend.
A/N: For the crossover_hp ficathon, and only a month and a half late. *headdesks* Sorry about that! Thanks as always to thescarletwoman and jateshi for their readthroughs and help!
"I cannot believe I agreed to this," Indy groaned as the two of them skidded to a halt. The spikes, jagged, stone things on the ceiling, descended toward them mercilessly, while shuffling footsteps and a bullish snort sounded behind them. In front, the corridor dropped away into nothingness, a void so deep into the earth that Indy couldn't even glimpse the bottom. So it was jump, probably to their deaths, be caught in the spikes, or wait for the monsters prowling after them to catch up. Indy chose to jump. Well, not quite jump. More like swing.
"Wait, I'm an utter fool," Bill gasped, fishing into his pocket.
"Come on," Indy said, grabbing Bill by the wrist.
They took off at a run, and Indy wrapped an arm around Bill's waist. He'd done this move with women before, and he didn't see why it wouldn't work with a man.
"No, really, it's all right," Bill said.
Indy felt something seriously irritated settle into his stomach. So it was all right for Bill to grab him and throw him down, but Indy couldn't touch him? "Come on, you idiot," he hissed, tugging Bill closer. "GO!"
Faster than the eye could follow, his whip was in his hand and with a practiced crack of his wrist, he sent its tip slicing through the air to wrap around one of the spikes jutting out of the ceiling before them. He turned to his compatriot, who was looking decidedly impressed by the whip. With a burst of strength and speed, they launched themselves off the ground and swung perilously through the air. Indy knew from their trajectory that they'd never make it. They would tumble to the dark depths below them, and they would probably die. Damn Bill! This was all his fault! He turned his head to tell Bill just exactly that.
Bill smirked back. "Hold on, love," he said with a look of manic glee on his scarred face. He had a stick of wood in his hand that he flicked just like Indy had flicked his whip, and then they weren't falling at all. They were squeezing somehow, like Indy was being steamrollered inside out, and then they were... somewhere else.
"Sorry about that," Bill said easily, letting Indy go.
Indy took the opportunity to faint, and after he did, he dreamed about meeting Bill for that first, fated time...
~*~
Another year, another introductory class. Welcome to university, this is how you spell archaeology. You can spell, can't you? Indy winced. The kids in his classes just seemed to get younger and dumber each September. He'd been teaching this bunch for a good month and a half, and their marks were dismal. Why did they bother showing up if they didn't want to learn? It was completely beyond him.
The blonde in the front row- Melanie?- crossed her very bare legs, smiling the most smug/innocent smile he'd ever seen. Girl knew she was attractive, all right, and oh dear God Indy could see her panties underneath that way-too-short plaid skirt. Indy nearly tripped over his own feet. Her smile tipped more toward the smug side of the scale, and she batted her lashes at him.
Five years ago, he might have thought about it, but honestly? Taking a student to bed with him had never really seemed like that good an idea. Even if his classes were always filled with girls. Even though a good percentage of those girls were easy on the eyes. There was just something creepy about it, and God knew he got in enough trouble with the university for some of the... side trips he took. No matter that he brought back some amazing relics. They wanted him in his office during office hours. Tyrants.
With a stroke of spontaneity, Indy said, "I think we'll start with a pop quiz today." The entire class groaned. The short-skirted blonde pouted. "Settle down, settle down," Indy grumped. "Grab some paper- No, Callaghan, I don't have any. Share with somebody. All right. Write down the numbers one through ten. I'm going to ask you questions you should know the answers to by now. Bonus points if you actually spell the words right- got it?"
More grumbling, underscored by the general rustling of paper as the class got ready to be academically annihilated. Indy didn't even bother trying to think of easy questions. He only made it to number four before the first kid- scruffy looking guy who almost never came to class anyway- got up and left the room, slamming the door on his way out. Three more left on question six- and come on, what was so hard about "Name two societies August Pitt Rivers was a member of"? By the tenth and final question, Indy was as peevish as the kids were. There were days he hated being "Professor Jones". He didn't really want to be here any more than they did, not when he could be out there. Somewhere out there laid treasure and adventure. Fieldwork. That was what Indy needed. It had been entirely too long since he'd gotten his hands dirty.
"All right, pass your papers to the front. I'll grade them and give them back to you next week," Indy sighed. More rustling of papers. The blonde sucked her fountain pen into her mouth, staring at him. The red-haired man in the back stretched his legs and-
Red-haired man in the back? Indy frowned. He was sure the man hadn't been there a moment ago, and he definitely wasn't one of his students. He looked more closely. The man couldn't have been that much younger than Indy himself. He was sitting in the back corner, his face mostly obscured by shadows, his red hair pulled into a ponytail.
"Dismissed," Indy muttered, and there was a stampede toward the door. The blonde girl fought her way leggily- it was too a real word, if you saw how she was walking- through the crowd. The red-haired man stayed exactly where he was.
"Melanie," Indy said gruffly.
"Anastasia," she replied, apparently not at all put off by his mistake, if the way she was pressing herself against him was anything to go by.
"Right," Indy said. "Did you hand in your paper?"
"I thought I'd show it to you in person, Professor Jones," she said sweetly, running her fingers through his hair. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "In your office?"
"My... office. Right. Actually, there's really something I need to take care of, but if you want to drop it off-"
"When do you want me?" she asked.
"When he's done with me," a voice behind her said. The voice was friendly but firm, with a British accent and a hint of humour. Anastasia and Indy looked up at the same time. Indy couldn't help but stare, and Anastasia recoiled, eyes wide. The redhead stood a foot away, no longer hidden by the shadows. His hair curled down past his shoulders, pulled into a loose ponytail, and his clear blue eyes were bright with mischief. His face, though... his face was really something. Forget the strong jaw and the freckled cheekbones. Indy had never seen anyone scarred quite like that before, jagged, raised abrasions that zigged across his forehead, nose, and chin. One cut a swath across his eyebrow and eye, though the eye itself seemed unharmed. Another continued the line of his mouth downward, pulling it into a perpetual frown. The overall effect was disconcerting, as if the stranger had been mauled by a wild animal. And yet... Indy couldn't explain it exactly, but though the scars were alarming at first, they were also intriguing. Though by the way that Melanie- no, Anastasia- was backing off, she clearly didn't share that opinion.
"I'll just... catch up with you later?" she asked hopefully.
"Right," Indy said, not really looking at her. He waited until she exited the classroom. "Do I know you?"
"Not yet," the stranger said, grinning. The scars stretched with the smile, giving it a lopsided, unique look.
But in Indy's line of work- or at least, in the work he preferred to do- strangers appearing out of the middle of nowhere never boded well. "Do you need an appointment?"
"No," the man said. "I need an artifact."
"Huh?" Smooth, Jones, he thought to himself. Real professional.
"I've heard you're the bloke to go to when you need an artifact recovered," the redhead said, leaning against the chalkboard. "In Egypt."
Indy snorted. "Egypt, huh? Look, pal, I don't know who you are or where you came from, but you got the wrong guy. I'm just a professor, okay? I don't even know your name."
"I'm being rude," the Brit said, extending his hand. "Bill Weasley. You won't have heard of me, but my work is not dissimilar to yours."
Well, he kind of sounded like a professor. "Indiana Jones," Indy said, taking the proffered hand and giving it a good, hard shake. "Seems you knew that already, though."
"Yep," Bill said cheerfully. "I've traveled further than you could possibly imagine, Professor. I do hope you'll hear me out."
Indy squinted at the joker and was about to tell him to take a hike when the door to the classroom flew open and the head of his department entered, looking crimson-faced and dyspeptic, like he always did.
"Jones," he growled, "I've just received your budget requests. Are you out of your mind?"
Indy grimaced. "Sorry, I'm in a meeting right now." He grabbed Bill by the forearm. The guy was in good shape, he noted vaguely, feeling muscles rippling beneath his fingers as he steered them both out of the classroom. "Very important, and, uh, potentially big for the university. Yeah. So- I'll find you tomorrow, Harvey, all right? All right!"
Before he could be caught, he pulled Bill down the hall and out the front door. Once they were in the sunlight, he peered at the other man. "All right, talk. What is it you want?"
"Odji's crook and flail." Bill unfurled a rolled up piece of old paper- parchment? Who used parchment anymore?- and smiled enigmatically.
Indy took one look at the hieroglyphics inscribed there and sighed. "Let me get grab my hat."
~*~
Indy found the amused expression on Bill's face irritating. "You never seen a pistol before?" he sneered, taking care to clean the barrel properly.
"I've never known anyone who needed one," Bill shrugged, stretching his long legs out in front of him. Indy rolled his eyes. Superior asshole.
"Look, Weasley, I followed you out here into the desert. I'm taking your word on a lot of things, and all because..." Why was it again? There had been a damned good reason why he'd agreed to come, but what was it?
"An old friend suggested it," Bill supplied. Something warm and calming seemed to wrap around Indy for a second or two.
"Right, that," Indy muttered. "But I want to know more, and not just what's on that parchment of yours. Old Egyptian riddles aren't enough to go on."
"Fair enough," Bill said evenly. "You see before you the Giza Necropolis of Egypt."
"Home of the Pyramid of Khufu, among others," Indy said with a nod, uncorking his canteen and eyeing the massive stone edifices in the middle distance from where they'd set up camp.
"Also the Pyramid of Khafra, Pyramid of Menkaure, and of course, the Great Sphinx."
Indy shot Bill a dirty look. "I'm an archaeologist, Weasley. I don't exactly need the Egyptology 101 lecture."
"No, of course not," Bill said, and he wasn't quite mocking enough to cause Indy to punch him out. "You see the causeways between the Sphinx and Khafra's pyramid?"
"Sure."
"That's where we're going."
Indy squinted. "Why?"
Bill smiled, nearly as secretively as the damned Sphinx itself. "That's where Odji is buried."
Now that was just stupid. "No he's not."
"Yes he is."
"No he's not! Look, Odji the Conjuror King is mythological at best. He's not buried in the middle of Giza!"
"Why not?" Bill asked. "You don't know for certain who ruled after Khafra and before Menkaura. The parchment I showed you-"
"Wasn't written by Odji or any of his supposed followers."
"How do you know that?" Bill asked infuriatingly.
"Because Odji didn't exist. Not during the fourth dynasty and not any other time!"
Bill smirked. "Then I suppose tomorrow will be a short day."
"You really think we're going to find this imaginary guy's imaginary tomb, do you?"
"I do," Bill confirmed. "And I can't use my... usual methods without endangering myself and you."
"Huh?"
Bill grinned. "Never mind. You and I are going to wrangle our way in, make it to the unfortunate fellow's sarcophagus, and wrench his fabled crook and flail from his cold, dead hands."
"Sounds easy enough, if it really does exist," Indy mused. But nothing that sounded that easy ever was. "And you seem like a capable guy. So what's the catch?"
It was Bill's turn to look perplexed. "Excuse me?"
"What do you need me for?"
The slow, predatory smile that spread itself across Bill's face shot a wave of something through Indy, some kind of awareness that he didn't think he liked very much. "I need your special expertise on this, Jones."
Indy decided to call the unnamed something "professional pride". Yeah. He watched the play of the campfire light across his companion's scars for a moment, calling that "professional curiosity". Bill seemed to know what he was doing, so why hadn't Indy ever heard of him before?
He didn't sleep for most of that night, planning their attack on the tomb and brooding over the other man, who slept soundly. He still half-didn't believe it would be there at all, but then, this wasn't the first time he would find out that something fabled, of legend and myth, was actually real. Not by a long shot.
At first light of dawn, he shook Bill awake. Bill snarled at him, sounding like a wild animal for a second before he came to himself. Indy relished the look of chagrin on Bill's face and his mumbled apology.
Getting to the pyramid was so uneventful, Indy was almost disappointed. Bill kept fidgeting with something in his pocket and murmuring under his breath in a language Indy couldn't identify. Nervous habit, Bill claimed, but Indy still thought it was weird.
And even weirder that the pyramid was exactly where Bill said it would be, between the Sphinx and the Pyramid of Khafra. Sitting there, three quarters of the size of the Great Pyramid itself, squatted the lost and legendary Pyramid of Odji, the Conjuror King, mythological pharaoh and sorcerer who was said to have ruled four thousand years ago, give or take a century or three.
"I've been here a million times and I never saw this before," Indy said.
"It blends in," Bill agreed. "You just have to know how to look. Get us in, then."
"What?"
"I told you- I can't use my usual methods," Bill said without shame. "Hopefully you can use yours."
Indy's eyes followed the clean, vast plane of the pyramid's side upward, piercing the sky 400 feet above them. "It doesn't exactly have a welcome mat laid out for us," Indy pointed out.
"I have a feeling that's never stopped you before," Bill replied.
With a grunt of agreement, Indy began to run his hands over the rough, gritty stones, each one wider than he was tall, and probably thicker too. "There might not even be a door on this side."
He heard a rustle of parchment behind him. "This is the east face," Bill said pleasantly. "It's here. The parchment suggests-"
"Forget what it suggests, what's it say?" Indy snatched the parchment away from the other man, running an index finger along the hieroglyphs. "Where two men struggle-"
"Or fuck."
"Or... excuse me?" Indy stared at Bill, speechless for once.
"I hadn't translated it as 'struggle'," Bill said consideringly, "though I suppose it's a similar enough action, depending on how you do it. All right then, fourth stone in, yes?"
"Right," Indy said, translating the passage rapidly as he read. "'Where two men struggle, pinned by Ra against the wall that faces sunrise, a door shall open four stones from the south.'"
"Good." Bill counted one, two, three, four, and then wrapped his strong fingers around Indy's hips and tugged him in front of the proper rock.
"What do you think you're doing?" Indy squawked, twisting to get out of Bill's iron grip, the parchment clutched in his fist.
Bill didn't say a word as he caught Indy by the wrists and held him tight against the pyramid.
"Are you insane?" Indy demanded. He could feel his fury exploding- what the hell was Bill doing, grappling with him like this? The redhead was deceptively strong, and no matter how Indy bucked against him, Bill had the advantage, pinning Indy's hands by his head and using his body to press Indy's against the hot, solid stone.
"Weasley," Indy growled, and a fierce heat alighted across the other man's marred features. He growled in kind, a guttural, wordless sound from deep in his chest, and Indy gasped as he felt one lean hard leg slide between his own, pressing- oh! Oh god, he was aroused, throbbing with it. It surprised him into momentary stillness, and Bill took further advantage, swooping forward to kiss, no, bite, Indy's neck. Shocked pleasure surged through him, combining with his horror, and he fought back against the other man, struggling to free his hands. His knuckles scraped painfully against the face of the pyramid, and with an ancient, grating wheeze, the stone began to shift. Bill released him immediately, looking flushed and pleased with himself. Indy took a swing at him. His fist connected with a satisfying thud against Bill's cheek, sending him reeling. This might not have been the first time, exactly, that Indy had had this kind of reaction to another guy, but it was definitely the first time it had gotten that far.
"I don't know what you're trying to pull-" Indy began, but Bill was scrambling to his feet, pointing at the pyramid. Indy wheeled around and stared. The rocks where Bill had pinned him- fight/fuck, Indy recalled dimly- had shifted aside, revealing a gaping entrance way like a gash in the pyramid's side. The air wafting out smelled stale and moldy, and Indy took a second to marvel that they were probably the first two people in thousands of years to breathe it. They'd opened the pyramid. Damned Bill would be impossibly smug after this.
"Good work, Dr. Jones," Bill said with a mischievous grin, and he strode into the pyramid. Indy wanted to take another swing at him.
~*~
Indy had been in enough of these situations to know that "duck" meant "duck" and he didn't stop to ask questions, throwing himself to the ground. He coughed on a lungful of dust, and overhead something zinged and something else shattered, the hard sound of stone forced spectacularly into a thousand shards, and then Bill tapped him on the shoulder. Indy ignored the proffered hand, rolling to his feet and checking his surroundings in the semi-darkness.
"Pressure-rigged floor?" he asked, and Bill nodded.
"Our weight must have tripped some kind of alarm." The redhead crouched to examine what was left of the stone missiles no doubt aimed at their heads. "Look at this." He pointed the small, futuristic flashlight he'd brought with him at the stone.
Indy knelt as well, examining the piece in Bill's callused hands. His brow furrowed at the squiggles, closer to English than Egyptian, but still undoubtedly foreign. "What the hell is ancient Greek doing on this thing?"
"A Greek helped design the security," Bill said, sounding triumphant. "I wasn't sure before, but this is Daedalus' sigil." He pointed to several etchings of a convoluted spiral.
Indy knew he'd heard a lot of hooey in the last couple of days, but this? "Get out of here," he said. "You'd better not be talking about the person I think you're talking about."
"Daedalus, the great Greek artificer," Bill said matter-of-factly.
"He's mythological too!"
"No he's a wiz- oh, wait." Bill frowned. "He would be mythological to you, wouldn't he? Right, then. Carry on."
They came to a fork in the passage, cutting off Indy's biting response. Of course. There was never such thing as a straight path to Indy's goal. "Left or right?" Bill asked.
"Hold your light up," Indy said, stepping forward. More Greek writing appeared on the wall before them.
"Right lay sphinxes," he translated.
"Left lay asps," Bill picked up.
Indy's stomach did a graceful triple pirouette and collapsed into his spleen. "Asps?"
"S'what it says-"
"I know what it says, but asps?" Indy didn't bother to hide the head-to-toe shudder of revulsion that shook him. "I hate snakes."
"They might be dead by now," Bill offered helpfully.
"They never are." Indy glared to the left, imagining a pit of roiling, angry snakes. Big ones, with inch-long venom-dripping fangs and evil, unblinking eyes, just waiting to strike and kill him. Or wrap around his neck and strangle him and bite his eyes out and-
"Indiana?"
Indy blinked, the visions fading but the ugly fear in his stomach staying right where it was. "Right. We go right."
Bill frowned. "That makes no sense. Look, it says 'Right lay sphinxes, left lay asps. Press onward for the right path.'"
"Yeah, the right path. Right. Sphinxes, not snakes."
"Sphinxes are far nastier buggers than most snakes I've seen, believe me," Bill grimaced. "Besides, it isn't 'right' like opposite of left. It's 'right' as in 'correct'."
"But-"
"And anyway, the crook and flail is designed to look serpentine. Snakes make more sense!"
"I hate snakes!"
"That's hardly the point! Look-"
"Wait." Indy was looking. "These things are never straightforward. So we go one way or the other, we run into more traps. There's got to be something more here. See, the script of the last line is different."
Bill stepped forward, frowning in concentration. He ran his fingers along the chiseled Greek words. "Shallower engravings," he confirmed. "I don't sense anything, but then, I wouldn't here..."
"Sense anything? No wonder you need me," Indy grumbled. He was a little disconcerted by Bill's sudden smirk, but he ignored it. "This is a puzzle, Weasley. Use your brain, not your senses. If you have a brain."
"You sound just like a teacher I know," Bill said, rolling his eyes, but he continued to stroke the wall. "Maybe a play on words?"
A sinister rattling sound insinuated itself through the darkness to their left, echoing down the corridor. Sweat broke out across Indy's brow. Think, think, answers always come under pressure, he chided himself.
"Something's coming," Bill hissed, facing the right. The click, click, click of clawed feet reverberated toward them.
"Press onward, onward..." Indy's eyes widened, and he pushed the heel of his hand hard against the word "onward", shoving all of his strength against it. With a jarring shudder, an entire section of the wall rotated like a revolving door, turning itself all the way around on an ancient axis. Indy grabbed Bill by the wrist and yanked him through as the wall spun. They squeaked through, Indy scraping the knuckles of his other hand in the process. The wall slammed shut behind them, keeping out whatever it was that had been coming after them. They collapsed against the cool, dark wall, and silence enveloped them.
"Good work, Indy!" Bill enthused, slapping him on the shoulder.
"No asps," Indy said simply, squinting through the total darkness. How Bill had managed to figure out where Indy was through the gloom, Indy didn't know. He couldn't tell where Bill was. "Put that flashlight of yours on again."
Bill did, and his scarred face came into sharp relief.
"What happened to you?" Indy blurted. He'd been torn between curiosity and respecting the guy's privacy ever since they'd met.
Bill flushed a little in the cold light but didn't look away. "I got in a scrap with a big bloke who likes to use his teeth as weapons."
"TEETH?" Human teeth did that?"
"In a manner of speaking," Bill said with a shrug. "Does it bother you, the way I look?"
It was Indy's turn to flush, for reasons he didn't entirely understand. "Naw. Doesn't matter to me- it's not like I don't have my share of scars. From more than my share of fights."
Bill smiled at him, a genuine smile brighter than his futuristic flashlight, and it made Indy feel like he had an itch he couldn't reach. Neither spoke for a moment, though Bill looked like he wanted to say something, and Indy barked, "Come on, let's go."
The redhead nodded and turned away. "You're the first person since my wife died who really doesn't care about the scars. Looks like it's this way." And he set off along the downward-sloping tunnel.
~*~
Getting to the King's Burial Chamber was pathetically easy. Indy scowled. "I don't like this."
Bill grunted his agreement, and together they stepped into the inner chamber, the final resting place of Odji and the artifact they were after, the fabled crook and flail. "If it's too easy to get in..."
"Then it's impossible to get out," Indy finished. The stone behind them slid ominously into place, as if it agreed with them.
Bill shone the flashlight around the room with a frown. "Seven sarcophagi."
Six large, plain stone boxes sat arrayed in a circle around a seventh, which was heavily ornamented and raised upon a dais. The pattern was clearly an image of the sun and its rays.
"This doesn't say a word about six other mummies," Bill said, checking his parchment again. "It's 'half twelve to guide and guard', but this isn't how I pictured it."
"They're the guards, I guess," Indy reasoned.
"Something isn't right here."
Indy was inclined to agree, but they were surrounded by more tons of pyramid than he cared to count, so it didn't seem prudent to do anything but keep going. And Indy, of course, was the paragon of prudence.
They picked their way between the great stone slab boxes to the dais in the centre. The sarcophagus reposing there was fashioned to look like a man laying on his back. Once, it must have gleamed brightly, and Indy knew he was looking at solid gold, painted elaborately in a rainbow of colours that were all but faded now. Still, the heavily kohled eyes gave him the creeps, like they were watching every move he made. The carved hands were crossed over the chest, clutching...
"The crook and flail," Bill crowed. And Indy nodded. He was looking at the painted representation of the artifact they were after. He didn't like it one little bit. It was too serpentine.
"What is it that you think this thing will do?" he asked.
Bill shook his head. "I'm not entirely clear on that myself. I'm just the delivery boy."
"I've never seen seals like this- there's no way you and I can lift this ourselves," Indy groused, kneeling next to the dais for a better look. The lid of the sarcophagus seemed fused to the box itself, and locked into place with at least a dozen heavy, intricate seals.
Pure mischief sparkled in Bill's eyes. "Under different circumstances I could. However, I don't think we have to lift it at all."
"Oh really, genius? Just how are we going to get your stupid crook and flail out?" Bill was half-amusing and more than half-aggravating, and Indy didn't need to be a mathematician to know that that didn't add up.
Bill's smirk widened and he fished a large square of red parchment, folded and sealed with a dollop of golden wax, out of his pocket.
"What is it with you and parchment?"
Bill didn't bother answering, saying instead, "A message from my friend Harry."
"Who's Harry?"
"The person we're stealing this artifact for."
"Remind me to wring his neck."
"He lives rather far from here," Bill said dryly, "and he already has a queue of people ahead of you who would love to do the same thing. I'll let him know you wanted to, though. Now then." He flicked open the seal with his thumb and unfolded the crimson parchment.
Indy couldn't see what was written, but after a moment he didn't have to. The parchment was hissing. A stream of snakelike noises poured forth, loud and echoing through the burial chamber. Indy's entire body tensed- it sounded like the noise a sixty foot cobra would make. Bill laid a hand on his forearm, eyes filled with sympathy, and Indy jerked away from him.
"Just what the hell-"
Something quivered, and then there was the bone-screaming grate of stone tearing away from stone along with the liquid squelch-hiss of gold melting. Staring open-mouthed at the sarcophagus was the only thing Indy could do. Its entire ornate surface was roiling and bubbling, solid stone turned to molten, bejeweled lava by that impossible hissing parchment. And rising up, two thirds of the way to the top, right where the representation of the artifact had been painted...
"Odji's crook and flail," Bill said with triumphant awe.
The relic looked mobile in the torchlight, glistening in its bed of watery gold. The crook was carved to look like a curved cobra, and the whips of the flail were fashioned after six tiny, writhing asps. Wait, writhing?
"That thing is alive," Indy growled, pleased beyond measure that his voice didn't crack.
"It's responding to Harry's Howler," Bill breathed, looking relieved.
"Harry's what?"
"Never mind. You have to pick it up."
The venom in Indy's glare could have matched any snakebite. "I really think I don't."
"Look, I can't," Bill implored. "The parchment says 'The son named for the father, whose blood flows not with the power alone may touch the source of Odji's authority'. The son named for the father- that's you, Junior, not me. My dad's name is Arthur."
"That's why you brought me along?" Indy bellowed. "I'm named after my father?"
"It won't let me touch it because of my bloodline," Bill said testily. "C'mon, Jones, I thought you liked adventure!"
"I do!"
"I thought you were an archaeologist!"
"I am!"
"I thought you weren't a bloody chicken!"
"I- hey now." Indy's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Only a chicken wouldn't pick it up," Bill reasoned.
"Why the hell don't you do it then?"
"I told you, I can't. I've seen what happens to people's hands when they take things they aren't supposed to take. I like my hand whole and unblackened, thanks." Whatever memory Bill was reliving, it was making him wince. Indy huffed.
"What makes you so sure the same grim fate doesn't await me? For one thing, that looks really hot." The liquid gold was beginning to steam.
Bill looked pained again, but in a different way, like he was riddled with indecision. Indy wondered if a good sucker punch wouldn't help him make up his mind faster. "I can't tell you why I know it won't hurt you. It's just, a very old friend gave me a letter and... You have to trust me on this. It's why I brought you specifically when I could have chosen any number of archaeologists."
Indy's resolved crumbled a bit at the flattery, and he eyed the sarcophagus with skepticism, twitching a little at the waving snake heads of the flail.
"Don't make me call you a chicken again," Bill warned.
With an absolute glare, Indy stepped forward and plunged his hand into the liquid gold. It felt utterly, eerily smooth, and in spite of its evident heat, it was cool to the touch, enveloping his hand as if he was groping about in a clear, still mountain spring. He reached for the crook and flail, and with a start the whole thing shivered, unwrapped its parts from each other, and swam toward him.
With a very dignified, "YEAAAGH!" Indy jerked backward.
The sarcophagus wouldn't let him go, and he could only watch with heart attack-inducing terror as the stone snakes slithered over his fingers and up his hand, wrapping themselves in coils around his forearm. With an almighty yank, Indy pulled himself free, crashing against Bill and sending them both into one of the other sarcophagi.
Unseen torches flared to life the second the crook and flail left the sarcophagus, washing out the room in flickering, condemning light. The stone beneath them began to move with a groan, and the lids of the other sarcophagi started to lift.
"Oh. Oh fucking fuck!" Bill gasped, and the tone of voice chilled Indy's blood.
"What-"
"Run!" Bill sprang to his feet and sprinted across the chamber. The door was sealed, but he hurled himself against it. It didn't budge.
"Bill!"
"Grab a torch," Bill snapped, lifting one off the wall and whirling around. Indy repeated the gesture without question. And that's when he saw them.
"Oh my god."
"Inferi," Bill whispered, brandishing his torch at them. "I'm an idiot- to guard and guide? He put fucking inferi in his burial chamber!"
Indy was inclined to agree with the idiot part, but he was too transfixed by the things hoisting themselves out of their tombs. Without thinking, he reached for his pistol and fired. He hit the first one standing smack in the middle of its chest. Its unseeing eyes didn't so much as blink in reaction. It lifted itself out of the sarcophagus and began shuffling toward them. Another followed suit.
"That won't work," Bill hissed. "They fear fire." He swept a wide arc with his torch around them both. Indy holstered his pistol and did the same. Three more were standing now, just out of reach of the torches.
"How the hell are we going to get out of this?"
"Not a clue."
"Not the answer I was hoping for."
"My apologies, Professor," Bill snapped.
"They're all looking at my hand." He thought he deserved the mild panic that was surfacing in his voice. The crook and flail gleamed innocuously in the torchlight.
"We're sealed in. There has to be some way to get out again." Bill scrabbled at the place the door had been. "Maybe it wants blood again- blood opened the first one, right?" Without waiting for a response, he scraped his own knuckles against the abrasive stone, blood smearing against it. The floor immediately dropped away beneath him.
Before Indy knew what was happening, he was tumbling downward. He could hear Bill cursing beside him.
"Fucking trap door!"
Indy was too intent on being swallowed whole by the earth to answer. They hit the ground at least a hundred feet beneath the burial chamber. The impact slammed through Indy's bones.
"Ow!" he said at last. He stared up at the tiny square of light far above them. Several pinprick-sized faces stared back, and then one hurled itself through the hole.
Bill grabbed Indy's unadorned wrist and dragged him to this feet. "Come on, it's jumping!"
They took off at a run down the corridor and almost immediately ran into a fork in the path. On instinct, Indy pelted off to the left, Bill following hot on his heels. Only a few paces more and a second corridor appeared, perpendicular to the one they were in.
"I've never seen anything like this," Indy panted, trying to figure out which way to go. "What's a labyrinth doing under an Egyptian pyramid?" He continued on straight, and Bill followed.
"It's a pyramid built by an ancient Greek-" Bill shut his mouth abruptly, and again Indy had the feeling he wasn't saying as much as he knew. Indy would question him thoroughly- with his fists- if they ever got out of this alive. Bill took a turn to the left and it was Indy's turn to follow.
"I don't suppose you've noticed we're on a descending path?" he said, as they jogged along.
"It didn't escape my attention, no," Bill said.
At the next intersection, something snorted. They froze. "Ever get the feeling you're being watched?" Indy quipped.
Bill's entire body snapped rigid and Indy stared in shock as he took three long, deep inhalations, as if scenting the air. Indy couldn't help but stare- somehow in that moment, Bill looked like a wolf.
"We aren't alone," Bill said, voice low with fear. And if whatever it was could scare Bill that badly, Indy didn't look forward to meeting it. He could hear the shuffling gate of those inferi things behind them, but to the right... his skin prickled and he cleared his throat uneasily.
"Bill?"
"I assume you know your mythology, Professor? What lived in the Cretan labyrinth that Daedalus built?"
Something massive stepped slowly into the shadowed outer circle of their flickering torchlight. Indy had never in his life seen anything like it. A monster of a man, naked, hairy, and barrel-chested, with arms the circumference of Indy's thighs, stood before them. But 'man' wasn't the right word at all, not when the beast's head was huge and brown-furred, with wickedly pointed horns.
"A minotaur," Indy gasped.
"Exactly," Bill replied. "I knew I could smell beef."
Indy couldn't even comment on the ridiculousness of all this. The minotaur lunged toward them and in unison they tore off down the only empty corridor in front of them, inferi and minotaur right behind them. Neither bothered verbalizing directions. Whichever fork they came to, they darted in the same direction, running like hell.
Another groaning wheeze, and the ceiling began to contort itself into jagged stone spikes like the ones that had flown at their heads earlier in the day. And it started descending, the entire ceiling falling downward as if in slow motion.
"Oh fuck," Bill groaned as they pelted up the corridor. Indy echoed the sentiment internally when he saw what lay ahead of them.
"I cannot believe I agreed to this," Indy groaned as the two of them skidded to a halt. The spikes, jagged, stone things on the ceiling, descended toward them mercilessly, while shuffling footsteps and a bullish snort sounded behind them. In front, the corridor dropped away into nothingness, a void so deep into the earth that Indy couldn't even glimpse the bottom. So it was jump, probably to their deaths, be caught in the spikes, or wait for the monsters prowling after them to catch up. Indy chose to jump. Well, not quite jump. More like swing...
~*~
Wherever he was, he was warm. The cloying cold and staleness of the pyramid was gone, replaced by soft sunlight and rough but gentle hands on his forehead. He shifted closer to that second warmth. It felt good- strong fingers combing through his hair and touching his face. But something here wasn't right, and his brow furrowed beneath the fingertips. A man chuckled somewhere above him. Man. Weasley. Egypt. Certain Doom- right.
Indy's eyes snapped open and he was on his feet in a heartbeat, the entire desert, bathed in late afternoon sunshine, corkscrewing dizzily around him.
"Steady now," Bill said, springing up as well and catching Indy by the shoulders. "You landed pretty hard."
"Landed. LANDED?" Indy shouted. "What the hell happened?"
Bill squeezed his shoulders. "You should lie down."
"I will not!" Indy snarled, but at another perilous rotation of the sky around his head, he acquiesced with as much dignity as he could muster. "Fine, I'll sit."
He sank into the sand, realizing for the first time where they were- back at the camp they'd set up the night before, cooking fire long since dead, off-white tent blending into the desert around them. How in hell had Bill pulled this off? Indy gave his mind a moment to sort through everything and prioritize it. "Talk," he said at last. "You drag me off to Egypt with the promise of fabulous treasure. That I can deal with. But how the goddamn hell did we get here? Last thing I remember, we were facing cold oblivion in the bottom of Odji's pyramid."
"Indeed we were," Bill said with that same infuriating grin.
"So what, are we dead?" Indy sneered.
"Of course not."
"How'd we get here?" They should have splatted against the ground and been done with it all.
"I brought us here," Bill said. "I didn't want to have to, but I wasn't crazy about the alternative."
"No, because you pulled out some artifact of your own, didn't you?" Indy demanded. "What was that thing? Some new British spy gadget, or-"
"It was a wand," Bill said, reaching into his pocket and fishing the stick of wood out.
"Huh?"
"You heard me," Bill said. "I didn't want to have to show you this, but I figure we were in dire enough need. Look." He flicked the thing like he'd done in the pyramid, and blue sparks shot out of it. Another flick, and a snake appeared out of thin stinking air.
Indy yelped in spite of himself and scooted backward. "You know I hate snakes," he said through clenched teeth, trying to suppress a violent shiver just from looking at the thing, coiling and uncoiling itself on the gritty ground. Bill shrugged, flicked the stick again, and the snake disappeared.
"How are you doing that?"
"Magic," Bill said without pretension. "I'm a wizard."
"Right. And I'm Santa Claus."
Bill looked at him patiently and before Indy knew what was happening, he was hanging upside down from his ankle in the middle of the sky. Oh god, oh god, oh god. "You're a wizard?" he managed, in spite of the blood rushing to his head and how much of a fool he knew he must sound like.
"Yep. Want me to put you down?"
"If you don't mind." Indy landed in a heap on the floor. "I don't get it."
"Some people are born magical," Bill said, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "I'm one of them- my whole family, actually. We keep hidden from Muggles- that would be you. Non-magic folk."
"'The son named for the father, whose blood flows not with the power'," Indy quoted, feeling faint.
"Exactly," Bill said, sounding pleased. Stupid bastard. "It's why I couldn't pick up the crook and flail and you could- it was guarded by charms against wizards and witches."
"Is that why you talk funny?" Indy asked.
"I'm British," Bill reminded him gently.
Indy rolled his eyes. "Your turns of phrase are weird sometimes."
"Oh, that." Bill laughed. "No, that's because I'm from the future."
"WHAT?"
"Maybe I'd better start at the beginning."
And Bill did. He told Indy all about the Wizarding world, and the big war they were going to fight at the end of the twentieth century. A war that, judging by the way Bill talked about it, he was still in the middle of fighting. He talked about his wife, Fleur, and how he still visited her every Monday in the London cemetery where she was buried. He told Indy about a boy named Harry, the hissing parchment maker, and a man named Dumbledore, and a guy called Voldemort as evil as the Nazi bastards Indy himself had faced. He told him about a place called The Burrow and another called Gringotts', about his work as a cursebreaker and treasure-hunter, about time turners and basilisks and Apparating- which they'd just done, apparently- and finally about the nature of the crook and flail. Indy probably wouldn't have believed a word he said had they not just "Apparated" already and had Bill not punctuated every other sentence with a bad Latin phrase followed by a burst of energy from his wand. He made their canteens float and he "transfigured" Indy's hat into a hare and back again, and his whip into a snake- what was up with him and snakes? Jesus! It made believing just a bit easier.
"Why did you need this thing so badly?" Indy held up his hand, the crook and flail still wrapped in coils around his wrist.
"It can theoretically be used to harness enormous magical energy. My side needs it desperately, and I just... I knew that you were the man for the job. I couldn't do it alone, and I was told by a very reliable source that you could help."
"Why couldn't you just get it in your own time? Or why not go all the way back to ancient Egypt and steal it from Odji before he died?"
"Two reasons. First, meddling in time is a huge offense," Bill explained. He crawled into the tent and reemerged with a bottle full of amber liquid. Indy silently thanked whatever deity had prompted that. "I'd never get away with it. And I can't do it in my time because in my time, this place no longer exists."
"What?" Indy gaped. "What took down a pyramid?"
"A dark wizard called Grindelwald," Bill said. "He knew the crook and flail was here too and he tried to get at it. When he couldn't he destroyed the pyramid. Or rather, he will destroy it, about a year from now."
"Jesus."
"Just as well," Bill shrugged. "This thing is powerful."
"And reason number two?" Indy swiped against his sweating brow.
"The pyramid is heavily guarded against all magical folk. Odji knew witches and wizards would come after the crook and flail, so he made it impossible to use magic to get to it. I couldn't just waltz in and steal it- I needed your help." Bill grimaced. "I should have figured it out earlier, though- as soon as the crook and flail was retrieved, the torches and the inferi came to life- and they could only have done through magic. The blanket was lifted so they could attack us, which also meant that I could use magic to Apparate us away from danger."
Indy was absolutely silent for a minute or two as he tried to process everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. Finally he said, "You- you drag me out to Egypt, possibly at the risk of my job."
"Yes."
"To goddamned Giza to look for a pyramid that doesn't exist, built by a Greek who should never have been in this country even if he wasn't mythological, to find treasure that is legendary at best, pure imagination at worst."
"By Godric, he's got it."
"You're a wizard who used a magic hourglass to move through time-"
"To find you."
"To find me." Indy ignored the pleasant burn that the flattery caused in him once again, concentrating on his anger instead. It was much more satisfying. "And you used me to get that treasure, and now what, you're going to hightail it back to your time, leaving me with nothing but an unbelievable story to tell?"
"Oh, you can't tell anyone," Bill said, eyes widening.
Indy's jaw clenched and he threw a hard left hook at Bill's scarred face. It glanced off the redhead's cheek, sending him sprawling backward. Indy scrambled toward him, ready to pound the secretive bastard right through the sand, but Bill was ready, smashing his right fist into Indy's jaw and then his left into Indy's gut. Indy doubled over, wheezing, and Bill tensed, watching. A low growl rumbled from the redhead's throat, and suddenly, belatedly, Indy noticed that he was in the same state of arousal he'd been in when they'd first unlocked the pyramid. With a desperate grunt, he threw himself at Bill, fists flying. Bill hit back, and they fell, rolling against each other through the sand. Damn it, Indy wasn't the kind of man who liked other men! That one kiss with Pierre in Paris all those years ago had been a fluke, nothing more, and Bill Weasley would not win this easily.
A few more well placed punches, and Indy's left eye was purpling, Bill's lip bleeding, the two of them struggling for dominance. Indy had no idea where the man was getting his strength. It was supernatural- were all wizards this strong? With a savage sound ripping from his throat, Bill pinned Indy's twisting hips to the desert floor with his own, Indy's wrists caught in Bill's hands, just above the crook and flail.
"Damn you, Bill!" Indy hissed, bucking against the redhead. He couldn't possibly miss Indy's arousal. It was only getting worse this close together. "Let me up!"
Instead of answering, Bill growled again, the most animal sound Indy had ever heard, and the redhead ground his hips against Indy's, thrusting one lean thigh between Indy's legs. God, was that- it was. Bill was just as turned on by this as Indy was, only at least Bill seemed to know what he was doing. Indy stopped fighting for a moment, trying to gather himself, and Bill took the opportunity to strike, sinking his teeth into the exposed skin of Indy's stubble-covered throat, not quite hard enough to break skin but damned close. Another growl, and Indy went completely still, limp beneath Bill's stronger body. They stayed frozen that way for a heartbeat, and then Bill gasped and disengaged his mouth, his forehead dropping to rest against Indy's shoulder.
"Bill?"
"God, I'm sorry." Bill looked up again, stricken. "I needed to dominate... needed to... I'm sorry, this was unforgivable of me."
Indy leaned upward to get right in Bill's face and tell him that he was damned well right, but then- oh, that was close wasn't it? Really close, and the way Bill shifted uncomfortably, right against Indy's groin...
He wasn't sure if he closed the distance or Bill did, but then it didn't matter because Bill's lips, still bleeding a little from Indy's fist, were on his, moving against his, and this was nothing like kissing a woman. Bill's lips weren't as full but they were surrounded by stubble as gritty as the sand around them, and stronger. God, even when he kissed, Bill was strong, fighting again for dominance. He sucked Indy's lip into his mouth, tongue flicking over it, and Indy groaned involuntarily, hips undulating against Bill's.
He broke away, panting. This was so much more than a few stolen, embarrassed kisses with a fellow student so many years ago. "I've never..."
Bill ran his tongue slowly across Indy's mouth, silencing him. "I have."
"You had a wife."
"And I come from a time when you can have a wife and have experience with other men also, and it's not frowned upon, at least in my community. But I haven't been with anyone- haven't wanted to be with anyone- since she died."
Indy's emotions were in turmoil. He didn't want to think about this. He didn't want to rationalize or wonder just when exactly he'd left his mind behind him. It didn't seem to matter nearly as much as the pulsing need deep inside him, and with a snarl, he bucked his hips upward, overbalancing Bill, and sending him rolling. Indy rolled with him, and they struggled in the sand once more, only this time fists didn't fly. Lips clashed and teeth nipped, mouths finding bare skin and sucking hard enough to bruise. With a final surge of energy, Indy pinned Bill beneath him.
Bill's hands slid down his back and under his shirt, untucking it and slipping underneath to touch Indy's heated skin. Both men sucked in a breath. Indy felt clumsy and big-handed, unsure what to do and not wanting to pause and think about this long enough to figure it out. Thinking might mean stopping himself, and the slow, subconscious rhythm of Bill's body against his own, Bill's fingertips tracing his spine, was too much to give up, especially in favour of something as trivial as thinking straight.
"Divestimento," Bill said, and suddenly Indy's body was being caressed by the warm Egyptian breeze as well as Bill's hands. He looked down and then up again, staring at Bill.
"Magic," Bill said with a grin as he raked his gaze across Indy's nude body. "Autodivestimento."
Bill's clothes joined Indy's, wherever the hell they'd gone, and for the first time in Indy's life, he found himself entwined with another man, completely naked. Maybe if it was anyone else, Indy would have shot him by now. But Bill's skin was glowing in the sunset, his eyes blazing with the same passion he'd had when he'd talked about going after the treasure or being magical. And then Bill arched upward and kissed him again, and all other thought was driven from his head. Bill's lips opened and his tongue flicked out to coax Indy into the kiss, a slow burn that built as Indy's tongue followed Bill's back inward, tasting Bill's mouth. Maybe it wasn't that different from kissing a woman after all, and Indy had plenty of practice at that. Bill definitely responded the same when Indy's tongue drew against his and then flicked upward to tease his palate.
Bill's hand snaked downward between their bodies, stroking Indy's chest and stomach, and then lower and- fuck, that was it right there. When had anyone known just how to take Indy's cock in hand like that and twist in just the right way?
"Bill," he groaned, thrusting into Bill's hand, and Bill grinned. He widened his grip and something hard and smooth nestled against Indy's cock. He had to look between them, confused, before he realised what it was. Bill was holding both of their cocks in his large, experienced hand, stroking them both slowly. "Oh," Indy managed, and then he dove forward once more, catching Bill's mouth with his own. It felt so good, Bill's hard, soft, mobile lips beneath his, matched by Bill's hand on them both. Indy was going to go crazy with it all. He was going to lose control.
Bill muttered something more under his breath, closing his eyes and breathing out. "All right," he said.
"What?"
Bill spread his legs beneath Indy, welcoming Indy's body to rest between them. Indy's eyes widened. He had never done this before. He had almost no idea what he was doing, but he knew enough that he stopped.
"I don't- you can't be ready to-"
"Magic," Bill whispered again, guiding Indy toward him. The head of Indy's cock rested between Bill's thighs, Bill's feet flat on the desert floor, pushing his hips upward for a better angle. "Come on, Jones, I don't have to call you a chicken again, do I?"
Indy shot him a dirty look, but he couldn't back down from the challenge in Bill's eyes. With one hard, determined thrust, he pushed inside. God, Bill was right, his body welcoming the intrusion with ease, tight and smooth and contracting around Indy's cock. Indy had never felt anything like it before, and he had to stop, a sheen of sweat breaking across his brow, before he climaxed on the spot.
"All right?"
"Yeah," Indy grunted. "You?"
"Never better." Bill wiggled a little against Indy, and they both moaned. "Just right there. Right there."
Indy began to drive in and out, not bothering with the slow titillation he used with his female partners. He needed to get more of this, and he thrust unrepentantly into Bill's body. Bill groaned and growled, moving with Indy. He cried out every few thrusts, and though Indy wasn't sure what it was he was doing to elicit such a response, he was feeling pretty damned good himself so he didn't question it. Bill's hand found its way between them again, wrapping around himself to fist along with Indy's thrusts. Indy could only watch, fascinated. He was close, so close, and when Bill's guttural groan of release tore through the still desert air, the last vestiges of Indy's control disappeared. He took Bill's mouth savagely, plunging his tongue inside as he thrust once more, deep and hard into Bill's body, his own release overtaking him. He gasped into Bill's mouth, not quite a word, his hips flush against Bill's until his strength gave out on him, and he collapsed.
He lost track of time, but when he came back to himself for the second time that day, Bill's arms were around him, their bodies still warm and sweaty. As Indy pulled away to flop down onto his back, the crook and flail began to move again, uncurling and slithering off Indy's arm, to reform as a cold, inanimate artifact between them.
Bill chuckled. "Daedalus and Odji had a sense of humour."
Indy didn't bother trying to clear the post-coital bliss out of his mind. "I guess it's one way to get treasure."
"Booty," Bill said with what was actually a giggle.
"Huh?"
"Never mind."
Indy shook his head. "This has been an adventure, Weasley, I'll give you that."
"Thanks," Bill said, but Indy wasn't entirely sure what he was being thanked for.
~*~
Bill Weasley didn't think it strange that his wife was buried in what was ostensibly a Muggle cemetery. All of the fallen were buried here, hidden in plain sight from Muggle eyes. Bill visited his Fleur every Monday after work, for an hour or so depending on his day. He missed her so much, and he feared that the way the tide of war was turning, many others that he loved would join her here before they saw the end.
Conjuring an umbrella as he passed by a patch of shadows, he stepped through the entrance gate and back into the real world outside the cemetery. He was so lost in thought about the war and Fleur that he nearly bowled over an elderly Muggle in a fedora.
"Excuse me," Bill said absently, trying to sidestep the old bugger, but he was stopped by a gnarled hand on his shoulder.
"Mr. Weasley."
Bill looked the old man over. He didn't seem familiar, but Bill wanted to be polite. "Yes? May I help you?"
"Does the name Indiana Jones mean anything to you?" The man was American, and he didn't look hopeful enough to be expecting a positive response from Bill.
"No, I'm afraid."
"Good," the stranger said. "I wanted to get to you while I was visiting England- I knew I'd find you here. I was given this in Egypt in 1943, after quite the adventure. I knew I had to hold onto it through the decades until I could give it back to you." He fished into the inner pockets of his overcoat and came up with a scroll of parchment and a rectangular Muggle-style envelope with Bill's name on the front. He handed these to Bill, who unfurled the scroll. It resonated with an old, powerful preservation charm, and the hieroglyphics... Bill stared dumbly. It was a message, almost a written map on how to find and access the lost pyramid of Odji the Conjuror King. When he looked up, the old man was gone.
Bill tore open the letter and began to read.
Dear Bill,
I know you, though I know you don't recognize me. My name is Indiana Jones, an archaeologist best known for his fieldwork during World War II. I met you in 1943, in my classroom at the University of Memphis. You brought me that parchment, and together we recovered the legendary crook and flail of Odji. You said you knew I was the man to help you find it. You wouldn't tell me why at the time.
Find a time turner, Bill. Decode this parchment and find me. I don't think I'm supposed to tell you anything more than that. You said once that you're not supposed to meddle with time.
I don't know if this is enough to change the course of your war. I hope it is. I kind of like you, kid, so stay out of trouble.
Indy
Bill's hands were shaking. The lost pyramid of Odji and his fabled crook and flail. If he did indeed go back in time, if he could use this parchment to get into the pyramid before it was destroyed... Could he really do it? Could he help Harry and change the course of the war? He squared his shoulders. He had to do some research, of course. He had to talk to Harry and McGonagall. But if this worked out...
Without another thought, Bill Disapparated to number 12, Grimmauld Place. He had an adventure to plan.
Fin